Happy Halloween, Marty
by PokeyDotes
Summary: NCISLAMagazine Deeks Challenge response. Everyone knows Halloween is supposed to be fun. But what about the day after?


**AN:** This is the second story (drabble) written in response to NCISLAMagazine's Deeks Fanfic Challenge. No need to have read the first response. This wacky little thing can pretty much stand on its own. Don't bother looking for a plot…

**November 1**

The wrapper had said "mystery flavor", and even after three minutes of sucking on the damn thing, the flavor remains a mystery, treading a fine line between grape and gross. The bags of candy are currently spread out on his coffee table, a generous handful hiding in his front pocket.

It's an unwritten rule, but one still uniformly known in his neighborhood: withhold the candy, and the only thing waiting on you the next day will me a mess and a headache.

The plan had been to catch the bad guy, avoid paper work, and be home in time to pass out candy. But things had not gone according to plan, which is why Deeks is standing outside his front door, barefoot, staring at a mess and fighting back a headache.

The eggshells are brittle, breaking beneath his weight, tickling the pads of his feet. Occasionally, a sharp edge will catch his toe or heel. He simply bites down on the mystery candy, wondering why he hasn't spit it out yet.

Then there's the silly string. Brightly colored aerosol goop decorates his door and windows, arranged to spell out some rather creative names and images, most of which would probably make Hetty blush. Toilet paper is tangled in the trees and bushes outside his door, dried bologna slices are sticking to his windows, and something that looks and smells dangerously like dog poo is spread along the railing on the banister.

Candy-deprived teenagers in LA, gotta love 'em.

"This is why I hate Halloween, Monty." Deeks crushes the candy between his teeth, hands resting on his hips as he studies the damage in detail, the morning light lending a better view than the night before.

Monty simply tilts his head, blinking twice before sniffing at the dried egg splattered along the apartment's outer wall. Deeks takes in a deep breath, holds it a moment, then lets it out in a heavy huff of air, his lips rattling in a lazy imitation of a motorboat.

A squeaking door hinge and the telltale sound of rubber-soled flip-flops flapping against concrete tell him he's no longer alone.

"Just so you know, Marty, cleaning this mess up ain't included in your rent."

Deeks laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he turns to meet his landlord, the people-friendly Mrs. Nolan. He's come to recognize her as being one of those 'you-get-what-you-see' kind of people. One glance in her direction, and Deeks can tell she's had one hell of a night.

The woman's pushing sixty, but can still party with the best of 'em. Her hair's dyed a deep shade of red, her eyebrows painted to match. The perfectly manicured nails and ever-present cigarette go right along with the faded tattoos and nicotine-worn voice.

"Good Morning to you, too, Mrs. Nolan," Deeks greets with a smile, his eyes appraising the crooked, sequined devil horns resting atop her sleep-frizzed curls. She's wearing a form fitting t-shirt, the words "The Devil Made Me Do It" written in bold letters above a provocatively posed Betty Boop, the cartoon's horns matching those of the landlord's. "Nice shirt," he says, deciding not to comment on the smeared eyeliner or glitter spattered on her left shoulder. At least someone had fun last night.

Mrs. Nolan returns the greeting with a glare and a roll of her eyes. "You know the rules," she says around an unlit cigarette, pulling a lighter and a plastic garbage bag from her back pocket. "Your door, your mess."

Deeks accepts the wrinkled bag, his eyes glancing to the ill-covered banister railing. "Most people tell the cops when they see something being vandalized."

"I'm telling you," Mrs. Nolan informs him, one corner of her mouth rising in a lopsided smile, the other holding the cigarette in place as she cups her hands against the wind and tries to light it. "You're the cops, ain't ya?"

"Funny how you only remember that when it suits you." Deeks bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as the woman's cheeks blush a shade to match her hair.

Mrs. Nolan balances the cigarette between two fingers before pointing an accusing finger at Deeks' face. "You said you'd forget about that Martin Deeks."

No amount of cheek biting can stop Deeks from laughing now as he remembers the very compromising and somewhat illegal position he had found the woman in a few years back. His shoulders shake as he raises a pacifying hand. When embarrassed, Mrs. Nolan's temper can rival Kensi's, and the memory of her fifty-eighth birthday is a sore subject.

The landlord arches a brow threateningly, pokes Deeks twice in the chest before pointing to the mess surrounding them. "Get this cleaned up, Marty," she says, turning to walk away as she adjusts the horns on her head, "then come on over. I've got way too much leftover pizza and a couple of beers with your name on it."

"You know, you're pretty cool for an evil demonic bitch," he calls after her, playful smile in place.

Mrs. Nolan turns, hand resting on a cocked hip, cigarette bobbing between her lips as she speaks. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Deeks pops open the garbage bag, giving a half-shrug and a wink. "Only the redheads."

"It's true," an amused voice calls from behind, catching both Deeks and the landlord off guard. "He says it to me all the time."

Deeks turns, brow furrowed in confusion and surprise as he watches Nell shuffle towards him, carefully avoiding the banister and egg-covered walls as she clutches a messenger bag to her side. She gives the apartment door an appraising look before turning to Deeks, her eyes wide with held back laughter. Monty sniffs her shoes, but otherwise remains in his prone position.

"What happened to the other one?" Mrs. Nolan yells, causing both Deeks and Nell to turn. "You know, the taller one, with the eyes," she says, two fingers rising to point at her own eyes, clearly trying to clarify. "I liked that one."

"Kensi?" Nell asks, assuming the absent Agent to be the "other one" the devil woman's referencing.

"Don't you have medicine to take?" Deeks asks, cutting off Mrs. Nolan's reply. She's always had a habit of commenting on his dating life, mostly accepting her own assumptions as truth and ignoring anything he says to the contrary. When it comes to Kensi, she refuses to believe the whole "just partners rubbish", as she says, and the last thing he needs is her commenting on Nell's presence.

"What?" Mrs. Nolan asks innocently, eyes wide and arms spread, "I like this one, too. She looks like she'd be a pistol."

Nell smiles, clearly enjoying Deeks' discomfort. He focuses on a particularly dried out piece of bologna sticking to the windowpane, and attempts to sternly dismiss his nosey landlord. "Goodbye, Mrs. Nolan."

When no sarcastic or embarrassing remark is returned, he risks a look over his shoulder, pleased to see a pair of sequined horns disappearing through a distant door. Landlord now out of sight, Deeks turns his attention to Nell. Her lips are pressed in a tightlipped smile, honey eyes shining, clearly entertained.

"I like her," she says, pointing in the direction Mrs. Nolan had disappeared. "She seems very…"

"Demented?" Deeks offers, his voice sounding falsely sincere.

Nell gives a snort of laughter, the corners of her mouth turning down as she tries not to laugh. "I was going to say interesting."

"Yeah," Deeks admits, hand rising towards his window to poke at a falling piece of lunchmeat. He uses his finger and thumb to peel the stiffened sandwich meat from the glass. The edges have hardened, darkening with time and exposure. The glass is stained, perfectly round splotches of grease polka-dotting his window, promising to be a bitch to clean. "I like to think of her as Hetty on acid."

Nell keeps quiet, obviously not wanting to add to that comment.

Deeks drops the silly-string covered piece of lunchmeat into the opened garbage bag, frowning as he feels a little get stuck beneath his fingernails. "Not that it's not nice to see you, but, uh… whatcha doing here, Nell?"

"I've been promoted to courier," she tells him, her tone making it perfectly clear she isn't too thrilled with the assignment. She reaches into the bag on her shoulder, fingers thumbing through a handful of folders before finding the one she wants. "Hetty wants everyone's paperwork done by Monday, _and…"_ She hands Deeks the folder but keeps a tight grip, wanting to make sure she has his attention, "Hetty says it's to be in _your_ handwriting, not Kensi's."

"That was one time, and…" Deeks stops his defense as Nell arches her brow, clearly not agreeing. "Okay, maybe it happened twice, but that second time doesn't count because I didn't ask Kens to do it."

"That time," Nell adds with a smile. Deeks chooses to ignore that comment, deciding instead to change the subject by dropping the garbage bag at his feet, the bologna inside slapping against the concrete with a splat.

The action serves its purpose, drawing Nell's attention to the damage around her. Deeks watches as she glances at the surrounding apartments, her gaze settling on the defiled banister railing, her nose wrinkling at the foul smell. "So, why are you so special?" she finally asks, noting the absence of filth anywhere else.

"Mine was the only door that didn't pass out candy."

Nell nudges the discarded bag with the toe of her boot, head bobbing in understanding. Deeks expects her to start laughing any moment. Instead, she gestures to the toilet paper covered bush and gives a sheepish grin. "I was seventeen the first time I TP'd someone's house."

Deeks' surprise must show on his face, because Nell blushes and squeezes her eyes in an embarrassed wince. "I felt so bad about it, I went back the next morning and helped clean it up."

Deeks drops his chin to his chest, shaking his head as he tries to imagine a teenaged Nell tossing toilet paper into a tree. "I was thirteen," he says, deciding to share his own experience, "and the only reason I helped clean it up was because I got caught."

Nell lifts her chin and gives Deeks a knowing look, one he's seen her use on Eric a time or two. "So," she begins, saying the word slowly, "maybe this is Karma?"

"Did your place get trashed?" he asks.

Nell shakes her head, but smiles. "No, but I righted my karma by cleaning up my mess."

"I cleaned up my mess."

"But only because you had to."

Deeks opens his mouth to argue, but closes it again when he realizes she has a point. He twists his lips in consideration as he tries to think how karma's supposed to work. "You don't think getting shot and the whole torture thing balanced the scales?"

Nell mimics his look of concentration, tilts her head and simply shrugs, giving the universal sign for 'maybe', indicating she has no idea.

"I'm starting to get the feeling Karma doesn't like me all that much," Deeks decides aloud, eyes following a glop of silly string that's lost its fight with gravity as it slides down the doorframe.

"Well, _we_ like you," Nell tells him, sounding only a little uncomfortable saying it out loud.

"You sure?" Deeks asks, feigning sincerity. "Because the other day, Callen told me I have the work ethic of a narcoleptic sloth."

"He's the team leader," she points out, "It's his job to keep people on their toes. You should hear half the stuff he says to Eric."

Deeks nods, having heard Callen joking around with Nell's other half. "Sam thinks I'm longwinded."

"You do have a tendency to ramble…" Nell admits somewhat reluctantly.

"Hetty says I'm cheeky."

"That's because you are."

"Kensi makes fun of me."

"I think that's called flirting."

"And you?" Deeks asks, more to catch her off guard than for an honest answer,

"I tend to think of you as a protective, older brother with the occasional dorkish tendency," she answers with a grin, her tone and speed of answer hinting at sincerity.

"Well," Deeks says, matching her smile, "I like to think of you as an intimidating little sister that I never asked for."

Nell's smile softens, and it's Deeks' turn to look a little embarrassed. They stand there for a moment, neither saying anything as the quiet slowly turns awkward. Monty's stuttered snores break the silence.

"I should probably get this cleaned before he wakes up and decides to start rolling around in it," Deeks says, gesturing between the dog and the mess on the ground.

"On that note, I'm gonna go." Nell gives another soft smile and steps over the now sleeping dog. "I'll leave you to make peace with your bad karma."

Deeks watches another glop of silly string fall to the ground. "Why do I get the feeling no amount of peace making is gonna turn the tides in my favor?"

"Because the universe rarely works that way," she says, scraping a bit of eggshell off the bottom of her shoe. "But Deeks, you're still pretty cool for an unlucky, cheeky bastard."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the blondes," Nell yells over her shoulder with a grin. Deeks laughs as he watches her go, his mood generally improved despite the promise of paperwork and the mess still before him.

He breathes another heavy sigh and looks between the folder in his hand and the garbage bag lying at his feet.

"I hate Halloween."

The End.


End file.
